Twilight
by Alex Rusanov
Summary: Forks, a town were it rains constantly. From here I was taken away from my mother to a foster home. It was this town that I had always wanted to be in, but never was after my seventh birthday. Ten years later from the time I was whisked away, I had finally managed to manipulate everything around me to send me back to where I belonged. And I will do anything to live my freedom.
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

* * *

Unlike most people, I had given plenty of thought over how I would die. Maybe the reason was the dangerous life style I had acquired along the way or the naturally suicidal tendencies of my creation. This way or that way, out of hundreds of scenarios, surely this was not something I had imagined.

I stared to the end of the hall, the action of breathing long lost to me, the trademark smirk I use to mask almost all of my emotions present on my face. The dark eyes of the huntress was relentless in their stare but so was I.

Surely it was a far better way to die, in the place of countless innocent children, rather than simply throwing my life away just because I was displeased with my existence. It was far more noble than I'd care to admit and that was saying something when my narcissism was considered.

I knew if I'd never gone to Forks, I wouldn't be facing death like this. But, as stuck as I was in this weird loophole, I could not bring myself to regret this decision. Even if that time had come to an end, the months I had spent in Forks have been by far the happiest times of my life.

The huntress smiled cheekily at my head on challenge and strode forward to end me.

* * *

As you all know by heart, twilight belongs to Stephanie Mayer.

This is... intended purely to practise writing my characters, and since the cast and the story line of twilight was virtually very enjoyable I decided on this weird, hopefully humorous retelling of the story starred by my "Journey" cast.

Some visuals are very likely to come. You can follow my Instagram account ( sasha_caryma ) for visuals and previews. Message me that you followed me from fanfiction so that we can have a friendly chat!

I plan on changing some concepts that I don't particularly like but I don't think anyone would care actually.

Have fun.


	2. Chapter 1

FIRST SIGHT I

* * *

My councillor and guide, Mr. Peggin drove me to the airport with the window fully open. It was eighty degrees in Phoenix; the sky was the way I hated the most, a "perfect" cloudless blue. Do not get me wrong, I liked blue a whole lot, but surely I could do much better with less sunlight and more clouds. This was why I was so livid to be leaving this hellish city to move back with my mother. My winter jacket was carefully placed at the back seat, seemingly eager to be worn more often.

In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States of America. From here I was taken away from my mother to a foster home, due to some strings that were pulled by someone, which I suspect to be my long-lost father. It was this town that I had always wanted to be in, but never was after my seventh birthday with the exception of ten days I came to visit my mom every year till I was 14. Last three years she had come to see me instead, even though the reason behind this unreasonable decision was unknown to me. But alas! Ten years later from the time I was whisked away, I had finally managed to manipulate everything around me to send me back to where I belonged.

It was to Forks that I was finally heading to – an action I took great pride off. I loved Forks.

I detested Phoenix. The constant sunny state of the weather and the blistering heat was just too much for me to handle. I hated this big city where people didn't matter all that much.

"Ulrich," my councillor called me, absent-minded. " I am required to ask you this again even if I know the answer. Are you sure of your decision to leave Phoenix and move to Forks to your mother?"

Even though I was fed up with almost all the adults who worked at the Foster care I was in, Mr. Peggin was an exception. He wasn't a kind of person to butt in to everything you did, a characteristic almost all the caretakers possessed for some reason. He was a care-free man, just like myself, only concerned with our bare minimal well being to give us some room to make our own decisions. The only one I was upset for leaving would be him, if I had to be upset for leaving. Well, I was required to call him every two- three days to confirm my well being so it wasn't that much of a farewell anyway.

"You know very well that I have been working for this, for years now." There was no need to bend the truth or put on my trademark smirk to hide away what I was feeling. I wanted to live with my mother.

"Tell your mother that we have to watch on over you two, standard procedure, nothing to take personally." "She knows this but I will anyway."

"I will talk to you soon, don't leave me out of the juicy details, young man." Mr. Peggin, or Chris since we were off the rules of foster home now, smiled. " Don't forget that you can come back anytime, not only to the Foster home but also to me. " he reminded. I had already stayed at his house several times when I was experiencing some rough times at Foster home. He had wanted to adopt me even, which was a rare occurrence among caretakers. If I was an orphan I would have said yes, but I had a mother I had to get to.

"Don't worry about me, old man. You know how I find my way around life. "

"That is exactly why I am worried." He said with a loop sided smile. I was considered to magnetise bad luck, it was a widely accepted phenomena about me.

"I'll be fine, Chris. I will report to you regularly, remember ?"

He smiled knowingly and took me into a bear hug, patting my back with incredible force. Then I was heading to the plane and he was lost in the sea of faces.

It was a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. Flying bothered me a lot, both times; somehow I had never trusted planes enough to relax within them. If it wasn't for the fact that I was about to meet my dear mother, the whole process could have been pretty much unbearable.

My mother, had been just as excited as I was if not more. She just had a hard time expressing her emotions, due to some past traumas, I suspected. Also probably because being the Police Chief of the town brought a necessity to be rather serious. She was not only glad but also proud of my achievement of coming here. She had already registered me for second year in high school, I had a free year before starting high school due to the fact that I was mentally too unstable to attend school, and she was going to help me find a suitable ride so that I could go around easily.

I knew that first times were going to be very awkward with mom, even though we liked and wanted each other around so much. We were very different not only visually but also characteristically. When I was young she was a silent but positive woman, freshly out of police academy. I could still see a similar glee in her baby blue eyes, despite it being somewhat jaded with years of emotional distress. I was unlike her, most people would describe me with the words cool and devilish, dangerous. A womanizer, more or less. I was said to be a people person, easily influencing crowds around me for my advantage even though I wasn't particularly fond of people.

Despite all of our differences I was sure we were going to work out just fine. After all, this was a moment we had been waiting for, for so long. She knew how much I loved her and Forks.

It was raining in Port Angeles, I observed with glee through the plain window. As soon as I got off I relished in the sense of raindrops washing down my face. The humid air was already doing wonders for my dry hair and skin.

Camille, my mom, was waiting for me with the cruiser. I was expecting this, since she was the Police Chief Manchester to the people of Forks. As much as I enjoyed riding around the town in a police cruiser, oh all the attention, it wasn't an idea that mom favoured much.

The moment I landed my feet to the ground, Camille run to me and I easily caught her into my embrace, lazily towering over her and kissing her hairline with such tender affection.

"It's so good to see you, Zen," she said, referring to the shortened version of my middle name Xander, smiling as she took a step back to study me. "You have grown even taller now. What are you, 180?"

"185 and growing! It's good to see you, too, Mom." The way I addressed her often oscillated between mom and Camille and thank god she had no problem with that.

I had far more bags than an average teenage boy would have. I had being saving money and resources for this plan for so long that I had gone a little overboard with most things. But given my desire to dress well, I firmly believed that the way someone dressed would give away most about their mind state, I had even held back at some point. Casually I slid my jacket over my black t-shirt and blue plaited sports shirt, my mom gave me another quick once over.

"Show some mercy to the girls honey, okay? " she warned me jokingly. I reached for the bags, easily handling them despite their weight and size, all the while whistling to feign being unconcerned.

"Mercy? Never heard that one before." I grinned, Camille laughed and playfully shoved me towards the car.

"I found a good car for you, really cheap," she spoke as we settled in the cruiser, I was instantly intrigued.

"What kind of a car?"

"Well, it's a truck actually, a Chevy." A truck!

"Where did you find it?"

"Do you remember Jackie, down at La Push?" La Push was the tiny Indian reservation on the coast.

"Yeah?" A face popped up in my memory, a bit blurry with years but still recognizable.

"Oh so you do remember, good." She was mildly but pleasantly surprised.

"He had a son right? Around my age, named Khan? We used to get along well."

"Oh yeah, your memory never ceases to amaze me. Well, back to the topic, Jackie is in a wheelchair now," Camille summarized with pain carefully contained in her monotone voice. "so he can't drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap. It's a bit old but I am sure you'll get along well."

"Mom, I don't really know much about cars. I wouldn't be able to fix it if something happens and I doubt that my savings can cover up for mechanic fees..." I mumbled.

Anything that was too much science related, be it engineering or math, I was instantly bad at. Technological devices didn't last very long with me, which was theorized to be a side effect off me being a walking bad luck charm.

"Zen, dear, the thing runs great. You know the saying, Old but gold."

My mom wasn't a dishonest person so I was convinced.

"How cheap is cheap? It might still be over my savings..." After all, that was the part I couldn't compromise on.

"Well, Zen, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift."

Free. Free truck. I got to keep my savings.

"Oh my God, Milly you didn't have to do that! I was ready to buy a car!" I exclaimed.

"Nonsense, I know you want to keep your money and I can't blame you on that. And the thing is just cheap enough to not bother me financially. You are very welcome." She smiled smugly without taking her eyes off the road. Her dimples, that had also passed to me, were visible.

"You are the best, finalized. Love you mom. " I grinned, leaning in to plant a kiss on to her dimples. She laughed softly.

"Well, now, you're welcome," she repeated, slightly embarrassed by my affectionate nature.

The rest of the ride was filled with comfortable silence, since I didn't want to stretch Camille thin from the first day with my endless banter.

Forks was even more beautiful than I remembered, endlessly cloudy blue and pale green, my two favourite colours. Everything was so delightfully green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves.

It was a nice change after the endless bright colours and greys of Phoenix.

Eventually we made it to my new but her old home. She still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that she'd bought after graduating from the academy. There, parked on the street in front of the house that never changed, was my new — well, new to me — truck. It was... red... not a colour I favoured much. Ah well, a simple paint job could easily fix that. I stepped closer to examine it (her?) closer. The inside was obviously old, strained by years of use, but it looked vintage-ish and it seemed clean and comfortable. A new music player and sound system was required, not much problem either. The seats very just a tad too worn out, if I could find something cheap I could fix that also. All in all, it was a good track, a free truck was always a good truck.

To my mild surprise and despite the irritating colour, I felt a good connection with her. I was kind of sceptical about her state as a vehicle but I could picture myself within this truck, after a brief session of retouching ofcourse. Despite her round shapes she seemed like a destroyer with her solid iron affairs; the kind which would smash into a car and keep running, unfazed by the accident.

"The colour is an irritating one but that is a minor problem. All in all if it's running, I give it 9 out of 10!" I imitated a tv show host. I heard Camille snicker behind me to my small act.

"I'm glad you like it," she added, the hints of her laughter lingering in her voice.

I took only one trip to get all my stuff upstairs because going down two times was for the weak and I sure as hell hadn't raised myself as whiney guy. Camille, somehow seeming to understand this train of thought of mine, laughed at me again. I didn't mind at all.

I got the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard. The room was familiar; it had been belonged to me since I was born despite not being used for the last three years, it still felt like home and ultimately; like me. The wooden floors, the light blue walls, the peaked ceiling, the heavy black curtains around the window — these were all a part of my childhood. The only real changes Camille had made was making my bed a double, adding a desk and a small bookcase. On the desk were the things I had forgotten from my previous stay; my old mp4 player, earphones, a deck of cards and a few more knick knacks. The small set of cacti she had gifted me was still on the shelf, stubbornly refusing to die without seeing me again. The rocking chair I adored reading on as a child was still at the corner beside the new bookshelf.

There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which I would have to share with mom. I didn't mind but I was unsure if she would be comfortable with all the things I was going to bring to the bathroom. She was never a beauty products person, preferring her own natural beauty atop everything; which was quite enough in my opinion. The same thing didn't really apply to me though. I loved being extra, being different and it showed on my appearance as well, from my 3-to-1 pierced ears to pastel blue hair I took pride on dying myself to the full sleeve tattoo on my left arm. I left my cosmetics bag to the bathroom counter to be emptied and organized later.

While I packed Camille offered to help and when I said I needed none she thoughtfully nodded and left. This was one of the aspects of her I liked, she was someone who respected privacy. I opened some quiet music to have some background noise and started unpacking slowly while humming. After all, I had all the time till evening and not many things cheered me up like organizing my stuff. It was nice to be alone but not lonely, not having to plaster that artificial expression and put on with unwanted chatter. In the middle of my packing, my eyes were drawn to the windows. Raindrops were patting the window sill, a pleasant white noise to the music I was listening to. An involuntary smile graced my lips. I turned back to my business, the brochure of my new high school was in my hands to get a brief understanding of the school.

Forks High School had a total of only three hundred and fifty-seven — now fifty-eight — students. Easy, there were more people on the street I used the live. All of the kids here had grown up together — their grandparents had been toddlers together, they must be curious for something new, something fresh. Someone like me.

I would be the new guy from the big city, a curiosity, a freak compared to them. I had no problem with this concept.

All in all despite refusing to see the sunlight even in a place like Phoenix, I had a far too rich of a skin colour. Most people thought it was suntan, even though I was practically as pale as I could be. I didn't posses moms porcelain like pinkish skin tone, nor dads rumoured Africa based deep brown hues. I was just brown enough to not be white and just saturated enough to not pass as a Latino. It was just the right colour that went perfectly with my blue hair, constructing a striking appearance when combined with my colourful eyes. They were blue and gold and brown, each day one of the colours more dominant to the others but they never settled down. It was more gold and brown in Phoenix, I was hoping to see more blue in here.

Years and years of working part-time and choosing physical activities as a way of battling my depression had awarded me with a not too buff but nicely fit and aesthetic looking body. I was 100 kilograms to my height of 1,85 meter. Good arms, slender neck and wide shoulders with long legs. Almost all my favourite activities involved physical straining; running, lifting and parkour. I used to be interested in triathlon but due to lack of resources I had to let go of that.

There was never a time in my life I couldn't use my exotic looks for my advantage and Forks wasn't going to be an exception.

When I finished putting my clothes in the old pine dresser, I made my way to the bathroom to clean myself up after the day of travel. I looked at my face in the mirror as I brushed through my chin length wavy hair and made it into a comfortable pony tail. I had dyed my hair a few days ago, as a celebration of my success so the colour was still very fresh with no visible black roots. The humidity was bringing volume to my usually straight hair, making it more voluminous and wavy.

Facing my reflection in the mirror, I gave myself a small, encouraging smile. Despite all my intentions of having fun, I was still hoping to find someone I could be close to. In phoenix due to staying mostly indoors and not being pleased with the city I was in, I hadn't made any friends. I'd never fit in mentally with the sun loving freaks of Phoenix. But maybe in this new beginning, things could turn out different.

If I was to be truthful, the main problem wasn't really Phoenix. I didn't relate well to people, to humanity as a whole. Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain. But the cause didn't matter. All that mattered was the effect. Because even if I was jaded there was still wonders in my eyes and a child like excitement for adventure, a hunger to know much much more than my existences capacity.

I slept fairly well that night after watching the rain fall for sometime, despite my chronic insomnia and nocturnal tendencies. The constant whooshing of the rain and wind across the roof was like a familiar lullaby to my ears, reminding me of the times before I was seven years old.

Thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning, and I could feel the excitement building up in me. No blazing sunlight, I didn't have to stay indoors to avoid it. The clouded shroud of the sky was like sea, dusty blue and ever moving. I relished in the sense of cool wind and white light filtering through the shroud.

Breakfast with Camille was a quiet event. I was a strictly night person, mornings were my weakest time of the day where I was only able to function on a hardly fundamental level. After we were done mom planted a brief kiss to the top of my head, imitating my gesture from yesterday, handed me a paper bag which was seemingly full of baked goods.

"Good luck at the school, honey" she muttered as she did her gun belt and put on her cap.

"Never had luck, never needed it. " I replied, a saying I liked quite a lot. She gave an exasperated laugh.

"You know what I mean, have fun." and off she was.

After she left, I sat at the old square oak table in one of the three unmatching chairs and examined the small kitchen, with its dark walls, creamy white cabinets, and white linoleum floor. Nothing had changed but somehow everything had changed as well. This controversial feelings within me pushed me further to examine the house to understand the origins of this atmosphere.

It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize how much Camille had grown as a person, from a young gullable police officer to a fierce but still warm hearted chief.

The alarm I had set to not to be late softly echoed in the house. I headed upstairs, whistling to the tune even after I found the phone and silenced it. Dark blue skinny jeans, a long under shirt and a thin sweater with unnecessarily long sleeves was my choice for the day. I put on my faux amethyst pendant, another gift from my mom, put on my silver earrings and left my hair to its naturally attractive, messy state. I grabbed my jacket, my bag, my keys and headed out to the rain.

It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak me through immediately as I locked up the house. The sloshing of my new waterproof boots were so nice that I almost jumped to a puddle like a naughty child. I couldn't pause and admire my truck again as I wanted; I was in a hurry to get to the school, getting dressed had taken more time than I had calculated. Bad at math again.

Inside the truck, it was nicer than it seemed. The engine started quickly, to my relief, but loudly, roaring to life and then idling at top volume. Well, a truck this old was bound to have a flaw, if it was counted as a flaw anyway. The loudness of the engine awoke a feeling of power in me, like a mighty roar of a lion.

Finding the school wasn't difficult, though I'd never been there before. The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. It was not obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be the Forks High School, made me stop. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-coloured bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn't see its size at first. It felt far more natural and welcoming than my previous high school which was surrounded with metal fences and detectors. It was a sorry sight for a home of learning and teaching.

I parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading front office. No one else was parked there, so I was sure it was off limits, but ofcourse that didn't really stop me. I stepped out of the my truck with a youthful energy and walked down a little stone path lined with dark hedges. I plastered my mask back on to my face, a small grin gracing my lips as I knocked the door to the information centre.

* * *

As you all know by heart, twilight belongs to Stephanie Mayer.

Six pages, in two days. Author must be either loco or procastinating intensely to avoid all the lab reports that need to be written. Well more or less, now you have met Ulrich; my extravagant, flighty man child who is an insomniac, depressed and lonely boy deep down inside. Next chapter we get to meet lots of new characters so stay tuned.

Have fun.


	3. Chapter 2

FIRST SIGHT II

* * *

Inside, it was brightly lit, and warmer than I'd hoped. The office was small, the U shaped desk filling most of the available space. Four chairs were lined two by two in between the door and the desk, behind the desk was a wall of old fashioned cabinets, labelled A to Z. In any side and corner that was empty were potted plants, rivalling their cousins outside in their greenness. The big clock on the wall ticked loudly. Behind the desk was a red-haired woman wearing glasses. She was wearing casual ensemble making me feel pleasantly extravagant in my clothing.

When I softly cleared my throat, she raised her head with a methodical gaze "Can I help you?"

"I'm sure you can." I smiled, putting on my charms instantly, hoping to accelerate the paper work process. "Ulrich, Chief Manchester's son." I informed her; and to my delight, I saw the immediate awareness light her eyes. I was expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. Son of the Chief's mysterious ex-lover, came home at last.

"Of course you are," she said. MY paperwork wise necessities were neatly stacked at the corner of the desk, a thin folder labelled as Ulrich Xander. She had prepared well, I took the offered folder with a polite smile, glad that I was going to be free of the office tour burden.

"I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school. All of the classes are labelled, the classes you'll be attending are highlighted with blue. As per your request you have only the bare minimal amount of science classes, the preferences are utilized towards fine arts and verbal classes."

She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day.

When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. I was glad to see that most of the cars were older like mine, nothing flashy. It meant that after I was done with it, my truck was going to look flashier than most. As I drove around observing, I saw the nicest car here. It was a shiny Volvo, its stark silver stood out. I parked the truck but didn't cut the engine right away, still looking around; uncaring of the looks people give me because of the roaring sound of my little dragon.

I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it. I never had much of a problem with visual memory and directional senses so me being lost was a slim chance. I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and gave a last image check at the rear window. My irises, a clear blue with gold flecks today, signalled that it was a lucky day for me. A wide smile graced my lips as I confidently stepped out of the truck, care freely whipping my hair back to its place. Almost instantly all the idle gazes crowded upon me. Savouring the attention, I walked like a model to the schools gated entrance.

Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black "3" was painted on a white square on the east corner. I felt my grin split wider as I approached the door, excited of the unknown.

The classroom was small, much smaller than my previous one, which was a relief on my side. The people in front of me stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. I copied them. They were two girls, one a porcelain-coloured blonde, the other also pale, with light brown hair. When they turned around I held their gaze and gave them the usual smile. They looked at each other, the brown haired one already blushing a bit. Before they could turn back to me and say something, I passed them and headed towards the teachers desk.

I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when he saw my name — one of the responses I liked the most — and of course I smirked. He sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class which was a bummer but I didn't feel like making a grand entrance just yet. Sitting at the back as a big question mark in everybody's mind would enhance the anticipation.

It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me in the back, but somehow, they managed. I casually checked the reading list the teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, and Faulkner. Nothing new for a bookworm like myself… boring. I gathered my attention outside, watching the rain drop and the wind pick up, shaking the trees and forcing everyone inside.

When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a lanky boy with long ravenous hair turned to my desk.

"You're Ulrich Xander, aren't you?" He looked like the overly helpful, chess club type.

"Just Ulrich is enough," I left the sentence lingering, implying that I didn't know his name.

"Eric," he finished for me, I smiled.

"Thanks, Eric. Nice to meet you, seem like a guy who would know everything going around here." I nudged. If my classification was correct, he would jump at this opportunity to show case his knowledge, which he did. Confirmed, another bulls eye for Ulrich's categorization system.

We got our jackets and started walking towards the next class, economics, as he spilled almost everything a newcomer should now. The class was in another building, so we headed out into the rain, which had picked up. I could have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop. Typical curious teenagers, much to their dismay I was a listener just like themselves in this briefing like conversion. Or so I thought until the questions began.

"So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" he asked. "Very."

"It doesn't rain much there, does it?" "Three or four times a year."

"Wow, what must that be like?" he wondered. "Sunny," I told him, not caring to shield the disgust in my voice.

"Don't like the sun much? You look very tan though…" he trailed of. "This is my natural complexion, untouched by excessive amounts of sunlight."

He studied my face apprehensively, and I laughed. After a brief explanation regarding my father's roots, his curiosity about my appearance was sated, hopefully. We arrived the class room with ease.

The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have hated anyway just because of the subject he taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself, which gained him some points in my regard. I put on the show smoothly, charming away almost half the ladies just by the entrance.

After two classes, I recognized several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. I played it cool and mysterious, under sharing with short answers and taking more information than I gave. It was an easy process, almost all the time people were like open books to me; what they are thinking more or less evident in their face. It was quite simple to play it their expectations, which helped me gain popularity quite fast

One girl sat next to me in both Trigonometry and Spanish, and she walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, but her wildly curly dark hair made up a lot of the difference between her and the average height. I smiled and nodded as she prattled about teachers and classes, filtering the useful information from student banter.

We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she introduced to me with vigour. I repeated all their names carefully as I spoke to them. Knowing the name of the person you talked to was the first step on conquering them. For some reason her friends seemed impressed by her bravery in speaking to me. The boy from English, Eric, waved at me from across the room, which I waved back. My glance almost automatically found the windows due to my dissociative tendencies.

It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, that I first saw them.

From ceiling to floor windows of the cafeteria they passed like a group of superstars. A couple then another entered, just when I thought this was all to the group a single person trailed behind them with a walk that could rock the cafeteria. They took simple trays consisted of two to three items and sat down to the most isolated table which was by the windows I have first seen them.

They were now sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible in the long room. Five of them. They were talking and eating, but so slowly and softly that you would think that they weren't simple teenagers, more like ancient beings covered with a simple human disguise, like deities on earth.

Despite my neon like blue hair and new boy status, none of them cared to look at me, so immersed in their own small bubble. Well, at least it was safe to stare at them freely since they didn't seem to be aware of anything else existing aside from themselves. I took this opportunity to analyse them, a standard procedure of my human cataloguing system.

They didn't look anything alike. Of the two boys, one had bright white hair. Not even silvery or tinted, it looked so pure and wholesome that gazing too long at it tired my eyes. His hair was sap straight and tousled, shorter at the sides and back; he almost seemed like an anime character in real life. He looked excessively tired and pale, I'd know this face of exhaustion anywhere. The boy was clearly an insomniac much like myself, the dark circles around his eyes confirming my theory. Referencing a tragedy manga protagonist which had white hair due to immense torture he was subjected to, I nicknamed him Kaneki.

The other boy was quite the opposite of Kaneki-san. He had a wavy mop of warm coloured hair reaching his ears and neck in lazy turns, the colour either honey brown or blonde copper. Even from this distance I could notice the warm brown dots scattered to his pink tinged cheeks. He had a soft look; upturned eyebrows and a small smile, his warm colour palette sealed with his light tan skin tone. Over all he seemed somehow like an artist or a poet, someone with a deep and kind soul. Despite his non threatening appearance, he was the biggest of them all physically. He had an obvious height difference even while they were seated. The gentle giant.

The girls, there were three of them. The one who came hand-in-hand with Kaneki-san was a hyper active one. She was tiny compared to her friends, almost like a small fairy. Her inky black hair had purple streaks all around, pulled into two low buns at the back of her head. Her big almond shaped eyes were round with a cute monolid. She looked Asian just like her partner. Even while I was looking at them she was talking about something very animatedly, making her partner look at her with a fond expression. The pixie.

The next was gentle giants counterpart, a woman so tall and Amazon like with her expression. Unlike gentle giant's golden and warm halo, her blonde hair was a cold platinum yellow, arctic like. It flowed down her back with big waves, unhindered with any hair products to keep them strained, reaching to the chair she was sitting on. Her hour glass physique was fine enough to be a Victoria's Secret model, but the cold expression on her face made her look more suitable to be a high manager, the cool professionalism of the CEO.

The last but not least was the lone person. They, had a very curly dark brown hair with pale orange highlights here and there. Since their back was turned to me I couldn't assess their face. From the pushed back sleeves, a splash of chocolate brown hair was visible, rich and dark. They sat with such a relaxed state. One ankle on top of other knee with wide open hips and an arm slid back in the chair. Somehow I couldn't immediately came up with a category for them. So for now it was just them or the one.

Somehow, despite being done with my intention, I couldn't look away.

I stared because their faces, so different, yet so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except at screens or as Photoshop results. Or painted by an old master as the faces of an angels. Even as they sat down in this modern setting, with their minimalist clothing choices, they looked like a renaissance painting. I didn't even try to pick who was the most beautiful because it was impossible. But from the position I sat it was obvious who the centre of the painting was. It was them, with their back turned, their friends forming a weird symmetry around them with the backdrop of endless blue-green clashing with their bright, orange-brown cartella.

"Who are they?" I asked Jessica who wasn't conserving with anyone at that moment.

As she looked up to see who I meant — though already knowing, probably, from my tone — a loop sided smile appeared on her face. She giggled in embarrassment, looking at the table like I did, somehow she looked either eager or excited to talk about them.

"White haired one is Tachibana Hikari. Japanese." She noted, the foreign name spelled with a weird accent in her American mouth, I inwardly cringed at this verbal destruction but opted against correction. She continued, not noticing my small inner conflict.

"The one with purple streaks is Yoon Mi-Rae. She is Korean." Again the name sounded more like 'you Mary' than what it was but I kept silent. "They are together with Tachibana as far as we know."

"Moving on, that ball of private sunshine is Nikolai Vasechkin. He is the most approachable one, I'd say. Together with our pale blonde model Morgana Le Fey, a.k.a. ice witch. She is cold to any and everyone, sees herself higher than as I suppose." Jessica trailed on with a side long glance.

"Finally the curly head is Kali Moria, even though Moria is the surname, no one uses Kali. African-American I think. He, she, them, doesn't really care about the pronouns. Doesn't really care about genders either, in my opinion. Boys and girls, lots tried to approach them but..." the small silent sigh she couldn't supress made me wonder if Jessica was one of the rejects as well.

Just when I decided to take another long glance while Jessica went on about Moria, they turned this way. A small face framed with dark curls and revealed itself, the sharp gaze finding mine. The eye contact was cut short as they disregarded me without a second thought and turned back to their table. It was one of the rare times I was disregarded this way, so almost angrily I kept staring but they never turned again.

"How are they related, as a group?" I asked, a bit grumpy. Jessica didn't seem to notice my mood shift.

"They all live together with Dr. Morguise and her husband." She said this under her breath.

I glanced sideways once again, tried of glaring. Kali must have been talking because all the others were focused and silent, an amused expression mirrored in their faces.

Strange, unpopular names, I thought. Very foreign. They looked like a make shift international family, all members picked from different depths of cultures.

"They are… very nice-looking." I said, it almost sounded accusing. The statement a small blow to my pride, somehow.

"Yes!" Jessica agreed with another giggle. "Too bad they're all together — Nikolai and Morgana, and Tachibana and Yoon, I mean. And they live together." Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small town, I thought critically. But, if I was being honest, I had to admit that even in Phoenix, it would cause gossip.

"So none of them is a Morguise?" I asked. "Obviously, they are not related…"

"Oh, they're not. Dr. Morguise is really young, in her twenties or early thirties. They're all adopted. "

"They look a little old for foster children." I mused with suspicion.

"They are now, Nikolai and Tachibana are both eighteen, but they've been with Dr. Morguise since they were very young. Her husband is the towns florist, he is related with Moria somehow, uncle if I remember correctly. " She mumbled.

"That's really kind of nice — for them to take care of all those kids like that, when they're so young and everything." I thought out loud. Adoption and adaptation to events following that, was harsh. As someone who knew what foster homes were like, I decided to approach this small group, no matter what.

"I guess so," Jessica admitted reluctantly, and I got the impression that she didn't like the doctor and her husband for some reason. With the glances she was throwing at their adopted children, I would presume the reason was jealousy. "I think that Dr. Morguise can't have any kids, though," she added, as if that lessened their kindness. A common way to degrade adoption. I held myself back from being mean, it was just the first day after all.

Throughout all this conversation, my eyes flickered again and again to the table where the strange family sat. They continued to talk and eat with their weird pace.

"Have they always lived in Forks?" I asked. Surely I would have noticed them on one of my summers here.

"No," she said in a voice that implied it should be obvious, even to a new arrival like me. "They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska."

As I examined them, yes once again, Kale turned to look at me. They quickly scanned me head to toe, and without a change in their neutral expression, turned back to the group. As I kept looking they got their now empty trays, put them to their places and left.

"Kale... Moria? You said most approached them but didn't finish your sentence." I urged Jessica to continue.

"Moria doesn't date. Apparently none here is good-looking enough for them." She sniffed, a clear case of sour grapes. My speculation was confirmed. I wondered how they'd turned her down.

I bit my lip to hide my smile. I was very tempted to make a quest out of this rootless ambition of mine. I was always captivated with things that were deemed unattainable, the word impossible was the bane of my existence.

Jessica must have read my look towards Moria, she sighed,

"If you are thinking of going after Moria, I say don't waste your time. No one knows what goes inside that gorgeous curls, they are poker faced personified. " the words that were muttered to deter me only served to do the opposite. I chuckled with new found glee. Jessica shook her head disapprovingly.

I sat at the table with Jessica and her friends longer than I would have if I'd been sitting alone. One of my new acquaintances, 'Angela' I said before she could reintroduce herself, had Physics II with me the next hour. We walked to class together in silence. She was shy, so I made most of the conversation.

When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab table exactly like the ones I was used to. She already had a partner. In fact, all the tables were filled but one. Next to the centre aisle, I recognized Tachibana Hikari by his unusual white hair, sitting next to that single open seat.

Mrs. Canon signed my slip and handed me a book, briefly announcing me to the lab with simply my two names, she too didn't mention my surname. Of course, she had no choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room. I glanced at him, he was looking out of the window, half asleep.

I didn't look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I saw his posture change from the corner of my eye. He had noticed my existence but hadn't raised his head. Knowing how annoying it was to be disturbed in this rare moments of piece for an insomniac I opted not to disturb him until I had to so I turned my head tried to pay attention to the teacher.

Unfortunately the lecture was on optics, something I couldn't manage myself due to lack of knowledge. I took notes carefully anyway, trying not to look to my left.

I couldn't stop myself from peeking occasionally at the strange boy next to me. During the whole class, he never relaxed his stiff position on the edge of his chair. I could see his hand on his left leg was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under his pale skin. This, too, he never relaxed. He had the long sleeves of his white shirt pushed up to his elbows, on his forearm there was a cacophony of lines, swirling interlacing, ending with 4-5 kanjis on his hand. As intrigued I was with the silent mention of tattoos, I kept myself at check with the decision I made.

The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because the day was finally coming to a close, or because I was waiting for him to turn to me somehow. He never did; he continued to doze on and off, obviously unconcerned about the lecture.

I peeked up at him one more time, and regretted it. He was looking at me now dark silver eyes dull with an emotion I couldn't read very well. A mixture of boredom, tiredness and something resembling the deep burden of understanding/knowing too much.

At that moment, just when I had opened my mouth to say something, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Tachibana Hikari was out of his seat. Fluidly he rose — he was much taller than I'd thought but still not as tall as myself — his back to me, and he was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat.

I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after him. I hadn't expected such a movement from him. He had looked downright physically drained but there he was, gone. Surprised and amused by this abnormal occasion, I raised my eyebrows involuntarily at the space he had sat.

"Aren't you Ulrich Xander?" a male voice asked.

I looked up to see a baby-faced boy, his pale blond hair carefully gelled into orderly spikes, smiling at me in a friendly way.

"Ulrich is enough," I turned to him, the amused smile still on my face. "I'm Mike." "Hi, Mike."

"Do you need any help finding your next class?" "I'm headed to the gym, actually. I think I can find it."

"That's my next class, too." He beamed, he either liked the class or liked the idea of having the class with the new boy. I opted for the latter, his classification was easy, puppy dog type.

We walked to class together; he was a chatterer — he supplied most of the conversation, which made it easy for me to gather my mind from the previous class. He'd lived in California till he was ten, so he knew how I felt about the sun. It turned out he was in my English class also.

But as we were entering the gym, he asked, "So, what's up with Tachibana and you? I know he gives everyone the cold shoulder but I had never seen him so retreated."

Oh, so there was something wrong. I decided to play dumb.

"The white haired boy next to me?" I asked feigning ignorance. "Yes," he said. "I thought he was going to fell off the desk or something." "I don't know," I responded. "I never spoke to him."

"He's a weird guy." He muttered as we headed to the dressing room. "If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you." Ofcourse you would, I thought, I am th3 knew squeaky toy and you are dying to get a bite.

I smiled politely at him and removed my clothes. I could feel the whole locker rooms eyes on my left arm, which was adorned with astral figures, star maps, suns, moons, lily's and humming birds. Towards my shoulder blade was a howling wolf and the moon, under it where my names meanings explained in loopy italic handwriting. The light blues, navies and pale yellows stood out against my dark skin, the incrinate and artistic designs begging the viewer to come closer. Not having enough guts no one said something or came close. Mike looked at my arm for a few seconds without realising he stopped in the middle of his story. The gazes diminished and died down when I put on the t shirt, which covered most of my tattoo.

I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously while waiting for my turn to play basketball or volleyball. It seemed that there was a match, as someone next to me explained, so only the team members were training today. I smiled to myself, they didn't know what they were missing by making me sit down.

The final bell rang at last. I walked slowly to the office to return my paperwork. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong, and colder.

I walked into the office from the morning with hair plastered to my face.

"How did your first day go, dear?" the receptionist asked looking up. "Fine," I said, and it was, the only interesting thing to happen was the event of the physics class. She looked content with my answer, quickly got the job done and let me go with a final warning about the upcoming storm. I nodded knowingly and bid her goodbye.

When I got to the truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. I sat down, my mind drifting back to the Morguise family, just staring out the windshield blankly. But soon I was cold enough to need the heater, so I turned the key and the engine roared to life. Absentmindedly I patted the steer wheel with soft adoration regarding my truck and drove. Surely, I was going to get to Morguises somehow, smiling with the reassurance that this terms wasn't going to be boring at all.

* * *

As you all know by heart, twilight belongs to Stephanie Mayer.

Well, how did you find my version of the Cullens? How did you find Moria? Let me know in your reviews. Curious about something? Don't hesitate to message me. Excited for some Moria-Ulrich (Ulriah) interaction? Soon, we shall see that too. I decided to keep the minor characters as they are, hope it doesn't feel weird or artificial within the story.

A small hint, Moria is not the one with mind reading powers, and her ability doesn't exist in cannon Cullen family.

Have fun.


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